deepundergroundpoetry.com

his voice is the river where my heart drifts

in the deep of the wood near the oldest tree
that's where you'll find all his memories of me
we drank from the fountain that flowed from its bowers
we lost sense of time among golden flowers

his voice is the river where my heart drifts
he writes my name in the stars with his fingertips
sweet is the taste when I'm lost in his kiss
his name will be the last thing to breathe past my lips

he swept in on a chariot; he's blessed by Athena
he battled and conquered inside the arena
a champion he saw me and claimed me as his
and there beneath that very old tree we first kissed

there we remain both our lives tied together
for we drank from the pool beneath the canopy tower
two souls became one each their own sacred treasure
like the flowery garden where we shall reign forever

the days come and go as the storytellers know
and if you ask them about it they'll say not to go
to the tree in the forest where the eternal waters flow
guarded by divinity and a gladiator's bow